


Stars

by Pastel_Teacups



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alien AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Humor, M/M, Star!Jehan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-11 15:33:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1174765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pastel_Teacups/pseuds/Pastel_Teacups
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Star people are aliens made to fall in love. When one shows up at Courfeyrac's doorstep, he has to learn how to love and care for another being, human or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Seven AM. Man’s absolute mortal enemy. Though most people were long asleep in the beautiful city of Paris, Courfeyrac was not. 

No, Courfeyrac was awake most of the night by his roommate’s, Marius, insistence that he was studying and apparently needed somebody to drone on to. 

So, at seven AM on a Saturday, Courfeyrac was shaken awake for the millionth time that night/morning by said roommate, who looked as if he’d gotten enough sleep and everything. Had it all been a dream? 

The brunette sat up, and sat on a book of law. Not a dream.

“Come on, get up. I made breakfast.” Marius coaxed, shaking his head as he attempted to pull the man up. 

Once Courfeyrac concentrated, he could smell bacon and pancakes through the flat, the scent leading to the kitchen. If one thing could get the disgruntled man off the sofa, it was breakfast. 

So, he pulled himself off of the couch and blearily stumbled to the bathroom, showering and changing. 

He was halfway to the kitchen table, where a stack of pancakes and bacon rested, when there was a knock at the door. 

Courfeyrac (fully awake, now) groaned and turned back to the door, unlocking it and all but throwing it open.

Marius stood up, also, and walked towards the doorway, hoping it was Cosette. But it wasn’t. 

Instead, standing in the doorway of Courfeyrac’s flat, was a man. 

A very naked man. 

He was lithe and small, much shorter than both men standing, dumbfounded, with long, mussed blonde hair. His eyes were a bright, vibrant green, and he looked scared. 

Behind Courfeyrac, Marius grinned. He stepped forward and tugged the other in, shutting the door behind them. 

Courfeyrac spun around and looked at the two, studiously avoiding the nude man’s more private areas. “Marius? Is this one of your friends?” 

The student rolled his eyes and shook his head, watching as the naked blonde wandered about their flat.

“Don’t be stupid. He’s - wait. You don’t know?” Marius looked up at the brunette, eyes wide.http://movies.netflix.com/WiHome

“Know what?” Courfeyrac asked, turning towards the smaller man. 

Marius’ face suddenly broke out into a large grin. “Oh. He’s a star person.” 

“Star person?” He asked dubiously, looking confused. 

“You know, an alien. You’ve heard of them.”

“Of course I have have. But star people?” 

“Yeah. If they show up at your doorstep, that means they’re your soulmate.” 

Courfeyrac suddenly felt his heart sink, and also noticed how completely _naked_ the other man was. “Would you give him something to wear, please?” 

“Why me? He’s your soulmate.” 

Courfeyrac huffed. “Because nothing of mine’s going to fit him!” 

Marius grumpled and wandered down the hall to his room, quietly swearing at his roommate the entire time. 

The brunette sighed softly and picked up a piece of bacon, chewing on it with vengeance as he watched his apparent soulmate look out the window.

“So,” he said abruptly, startling the blonde. “You’re really one of the star people?” 

He bit his lip, concerned, before opening his mouth and suddenly babbling on in a completely foreign language. 

Courfeyrac stared. 

Moments later, his roommate reappeared with a bundle of clothes in his arms. The newcomer, still speaking in what Courfeyrac could only assume was his native tongue, stopped in his tracks when he caught sight of the fabric, brow furrowed. He reached out and touched the soft pink material with long fingers.

“Is that . . . ?” Courfeyrac asked, biting his lip as he pointed at the bundle. 

“My jeans and Cosette’s sweater. My shirt’s would be too big,” Marius defended, watching as the alien prodded at the clothing. “Oh, I forgot. They don’t wear clothes where he comes from. He doesn’t know what they are.” 

Courfeyrac sputtered, eyes wide. “Why don’t they wear clothes?” 

Marius shrugged. “There’s no need. Modesty doesn’t exist.” 

Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow. “What about . . . I don’t know, don’t they get self-conscious?”

“No. In their world, everybody’s beautiful. Help me get these clothes on him.” 

With slight hesitance, Courfeyrac shuffled forward and grabbed the soft pink sweater, tugging it roughly over the man’s head. Once his face reappeared he saw confusion written over it, and Courfeyrac had to force his arms through the holes. Thankfully, Marius took over with his dark jeans, a clearly complicated process. He first tried to make the alien put his legs into the holes, clumsy movements that weren’t working. The blonde only grew anxious with the attention, and started fidgeting. The younger man decided on a new tactic, pulling the legs of the pants up and finally getting the alien to step in, mumbling foreign words to himself as the pants were tugged up and buttoned. They were supposed to be skinny, but they were too big to be so on the blonde. Instead they hung off of his hips, just barely covering his more sensitive areas. The sweater was also designed to be baggy, and fell off his pale shoulder. He looked frazzled by the fabric, but it seemed to grow on him. He eventually sat down on the sofa, legs crossed under him. 

He looked up at them, as if expecting them to say or dosomething. 

“Does he speak English? Or French?” Courfeyrac asked hopelessly, looking down at the alien boy in front of him. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Marius said, rolling his eyes. “He’s not from here. They have their own language.” 

“How am I supposed to be his soulmate when we speak two different languages?” 

“Well, first off, they’re naturally drawn to their soulmate. If you weren’t here, he’d be much more upset and irritable. And, as for the language barrier,” He shrugged. “You’re just going to have to teach him.” 

Courfeyrac was just going to get indignant, when the door opened. 

Cosette stepped in, shaking snow out of her blonde hair and setting grocery bags on the counter. Marius had insisted that they give her the spare key, and she now does most of their food shopping (Why? They’re apparently lacking in nutrients. “You cannot have three different types of hot pockets in your freezer and call it variety,” in her words). She paused when she caught sight of the man on the sofa, her face suddenly breaking into a grin. “Is that-?” 

“It is,” Marius nodded, smiling at the mere sight of his love. The still-nameless alien glanced between Cosette and Marius, before smiling serenely.

The woman actually squealed and kicked off her shoes, walking towards the group in the sitting room. “Oh, Courf, he’s gorgeous.” 

“Do I really have to teach him how to speak?” 

“Yes.” Both Cosette and Marius said, holding hands. “It strengthens the bond.” 

Courfeyrac groaned, and, in a huff, threw himself onto the couch next to the man, looking up. 

“Oh, did you both read some alleged alien soulmate guide?” 

“Yes,” they replied together; Cosette giggled. “I learned about it in school.” 

“As did I,” Marius said. 

Private schools.

“Fine. I’ll teach him.” 

“Oh, you should figure out his name first.” 

Somewhere along the way, the blonde man had wrapped his arms around Courfeyrac’s middle, and his head was now leaned against his shoulder, green eyes lidded.

“How the hell do I do that?” 

Unconsciously, his arm found its way around the stranger’s shoulders. Cosette grinned, but neither mentioned it. 

“Just tell him your name. He already knows it, but he’ll tell you his.” 

Marius smiled, and Cosette continued. “That sweater’s adorable on him. I’ll go buy him some clothes. Come on, Marius!” She decided, tugging her boyfriend along. 

Then, they were gone, and they were alone. 

Courfeyrac glanced down at the small man, who looked ruffled and beautiful. 

“I’m Courfeyrac,” he breathed softly, suddenly unable to take his eyes off of the other. 

He peered up with green eyes, a smile on his lips. “Jehan.” He said in a soft, delicate voice, head falling back onto the man’s chest. 

“Jehan.” Courfeyrac repeated, nodding.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jehan is just learning the language. Courfeyrac and Jehan find a problem, and have to find a solution.

“Paris.” 

“Par-is?” 

“No, Paris.” 

Courfeyrac bit his lip with vague frustration as he gestured around them. “Paris.” He repeated. 

“Paris.” Jehan parroted back to him, smiling softly. He hadn’t mispronounced it this time, or at least he thought. It sounded like the way Courfeyrac said it.

The brunette beamed, and he smiled. “Good. That’s good. Where are we?” 

“We are in Paris.” Jehan replied, toying with Courfeyrac’s fingers. 

“That’s right.” 

Jehan’d picked up quickly, already learning how to say “hello” and “goodbye” by the time Marius and Cosette returned. Then, having put the blonde man into a wardrobe of pastel-colored sweaters and dark jeans that actually fit, Marius suggested they go for a walk while Cosette and he probably had sex on the kitchen counters or something of the sort. 

So, they did. 

Courfeyrac taught Jehan how to name the city and country they were currently in, and how to order two coffees and a muffin, and how to ask what someone’s favorite color was, and the colors. 

When they returned to the flat, Cosette had gone back to her house, her father wanting her home before dinner, and Marius was doing homework incessantly on the sofa. Courfeyrac took a break from singing the alphabet to Jehan to make dinner, the three of them sitting down to the one thing Courfeyrac could actually cook: pasta. 

“How much has he learned?” Marius asked, taking a bite of his pasta. Jehan glanced up at him, green eyes lingering on the freckled boy. 

“Enough.” He responded, to Courfeyrac’s surprise. He hadn’t taught Jehan the word yet. 

“I guess he picked it up off the streets,” The brunette shrugged. 

The blonde boy only smiled to himself and looked down at his food, squinting at the foreign nutrition. 

“Pasta,” Courfeyrac filled in for him, gesturing to the food on his plate. 

“Pasta?” He repeated, taking a forkful and tasting it, before smiling. 

“It’s Italian.” 

“I-talien.” He said, pouting softly as he looked up.

Courfeyrac thought for a moment, before pushing out of his chair and disappearing, reappearing after a few minutes with a large book. He pulled his chair closer to Jehan’s and flipped through the book, finally sitting down and pointing at it. 

It was Europe. He pointed at the country and bit his lip. “Italy.” 

“Italy.” He said back to him, staring intently at the map. 

Courfeyrac moved his fingers to their country, tapping it gently. “France. Where we are.” 

“We are all in France.” He said softly, moving his fingers over Courfeyrac’s to trace over the country. 

“Yeah,” Courfeyrac said, voice soft. He wasn’t looking at the map, only down at Jehan. “We are all in France.” 

Marius excused himself silently, taking his meal with him so they could finish their dinner/countries lesson alone.   
\--  
“I think he’s tired.” Marius said to Courfeyrac that night, watching the way Jehan yawned and nuzzled the brunette’s chest, his eyes falling shut. 

“Right. He probably is. Should I, you know, let him sleep in my bed, or…?” 

“Of course.” Marius dismissed, leaning back. “I think Cosette bought him a pair of pajama pants- oh, here they are.” He tugged the soft pants from the bag and tossed them to Courfeyrac, who nodded. 

“Right. Of course. Well, goodnight.” 

It took quite a few moments to convince Jehan to get up off the couch, but he eventually did. He followed Courfeyrac down the hall and into his bedroom, their hands tangled together all the while.

“Bedroom.” Jehan said almost to himself, glancing around. A bed in a room. Bedroom. 

“Bedroom,” Courfeyrac confirmed, handing Jehan the pajama pants and one of his t-shirts. “Think you can change on your own?” He asked, smiling softly. 

Biting his lower lip in concentration, the blonde shed his shirt and pants, before stepping into the pajamas. He stumbled as he did so, said something in his original tongue, and then managed to pull them up. 

Courfeyrac laughed softly, nodding. “Good,” He said, nodding. 

It didn’t take long for Jehan to climb into bed, and took less time for Courfeyrac to join him. The brunette gave him a moment to settle beside him, before he turned out the light and tried to close his eyes. 

But something was bothering him. 

He cracked open an eye, only to find Jehan.

With glowing hair. 

Aside from his strewn and glowing hair, he appeared to be peaceful. But Courfeyrac was never able to sleep with a nightlight. 

“Jehan,” He whispered, shaking the man’s arm.

He gave a whine, but his green eyes slowly opened. “What is it?” He asked, rolling over to face the other. 

“Your hair, does it always do that?” He asked in a harsh whisper, picking up one of the glowing strands.

He nodded softly and closed his eyes again, licking his lips. “Yeah, it always does that in the dark.” 

Courfeyrac huffed, trying to come up with a solution that didn’t involve chopping off Jehan’s long hair or sleeping in a bed other than this one. Then, slowly, he formulated a plan. 

“Sit up.” He said softly, tapping his shoulder again. Jehan pouted and shook his head, rolling over. His hair glowed in his wake, illuminating the room. “Come on, please?” 

Jehan mumbled in his foreign language and pulled himself up, looking ruffled and tired and adorable. 

Courfeyrac smiled reassuringly and moved all of his glowing hair to the side of his face, separating it into three parts.

“What are you doing?” Jehan asked through a yawn, his eyelids fluttering. 

Courfeyrac shrugged softly, moving his fingers the way his mother taught him. “Braiding.” 

He shifted the strands until they were in one plait, only slightly mussed. “There. Now, it’ll be on the other side. That way we can both sleep.” 

Jehan looked down at his hair, glancing up when Courfeyrac tugged out a small ribbon and tied down the bottom of his blonde hair. The brunette grinned at him, his face only illuminated by the glow of the man’s hair. It was just as bright, but both realized it wouldn’t be a bother to either of them, now. 

“Is that okay?” He asked quietly, tucking a stray piece of hair behind the man’s ear. 

The smaller man nodded and smiled lazily, leaning forward to press his lips to Courfeyrac’s cheek, the smile still on his face as he laid down again, yawning. “Thank you, Courf.” He mumbled almost soundlessly, tugging the blankets close to him. Courfeyrac couldn’t help but feel his heart flutter as he laid down next to him, feeling a hand slip into his own. 

“Goodnight, Jehan.” He said softly, though he didn’t have to. Jehan was already asleep, curled into a ball, his hair giving just enough light for Courfeyrac to get a look at his peaceful face, before dozing off himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Please comment to tell me what you thought!


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